For those not from round these Antipodean parts, today is election day or vote in the village idiot day. Australian democracy is a curious creature. One not to be ignored or forgotten about. Here in Oz it is compulsory to vote, compulsory to drink drink beer to excess and have blonde hair and be an ex-Olympian.

On the stroke of noon, just as Film Buff’s Forecast came on the radio, I ventured out with the whippet to cast my hard won vote. The sun was most generous in it’s universal suffrage but the wind was conspicuously absent. Possibly due to some preferential deal struck in a dark parliamentary cave somewhere near Canberra.

In short I was harassed by campaigners as I took my place at the end of the queue that stretched out of the school grounds and snaked down the street past the mobile organic beer bar on a tricycle; obviously a publicity stunt engineered by the coalition for intoxicated velocipedal hipsters.

I declined all sorts of bribery and blackmail at their insincere hands. Every time they tried to thrust a pamphlet of political pollocks in my hand I’d order my trusty whippet to ‘Kill! Kill!’ with much enthusiasm and vigour. And every time they’d wince back like premature turds stuck in a constipated apparatchik.

Past the free beer, cheap snags in even cheaper bread and fair trade chocolate hedgehogs I went all the while listening to 3RRR on my headphones and looking out for a friendly face in this sea of preference confusion. Upon getting my ballot papers I checked the register and was very pleased to see that I am not only the only Dorje Heavey on the register but also the ONLY Heavey too. Now I do feel special.

The polling working asked me if I had voted already, I replied that ‘I’ve got better things to do with my time on a Saturday than vote for this shower of cunts, twice’. She smiled politely, wished me luck and called the next hapless constituent.

A friend of mine was fond of saying that one should take the attitude of a young enthusiastic democracy when casting your vote: vote early and vote often, just to be sure. Sadly, convicted criminals serving time are denied their democratic rights here in Oz and as such he can only partake vicariously.

My national duty done for the day I shall now take my hand made bust of Tony Abbott on the tram and down to the pub for some cheese and onion banter and lashings of rooted beer followed a wee bit of voodoo magick.